Freedom Is
by viciousdisorder
Summary: A brief look into the life of Jack Sparrow before the events of POTC but not any specific time period necessarily. Some hints at child abuse. Please leave a review


Summary: Written in response to a challenge between my friends and I to write something using the words Map and Sky. A brief look into the life of Jack Sparrow before the events of POTC but not any specific time period necessarily. Please leave a review.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the place in my head where my ideas come from.  
  
~*~  
  
FREEDOM IS  
  
"Jack Sparrow?"  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow that is mate. 'nd if you don't rightly mind I've really got to be off again don't you know?" Jack Sparrow made an impressive twist of his body and was away from the lieutenant as swiftly as you could say rum. Unfortunately the freedom was short lived as he danced straight into the arms of one of the heavier built lads who had come with the naval officer. He felt a hand grab hold of his collar and decided it was not the time to fight as shackles were hung between his wrists.  
  
…  
  
It was not a long walk back to the barracks where he knew he was to be held but it was an interesting one none the less. Jack walked with purpose, yet not sombre like the guard, and was quite pleased to call out in conversations with general passers-by. Some only stared at him with contempt though others, for reasons perhaps better left uninvestigated, would reply with a shout, wave or grunt.  
  
Yet despite his gaiety Captain Jack Sparrow was feeling a twinge of unease. Last time he had been in this port it had nearly resulted in swinging from a length of cord to stretch his neck. It was a long time since he had come to this port but he now was no longer sure it had been long enough for what he had done to be forgotten. Masquerading as a man of the cloth had seemed like a good idea at the time but so did a lot of other ideas after he'd had a fair amount of rum.  
  
…  
  
The barracks, which was were the port's gaol was located, were as deserted as he had thought they would be. It was summer, which meant most of His Royal Highness' navy were off visiting foreign parts under the name of "diplomacy". He had heard of it at some port and had always thought that it sounded like a barely more polite form of piracy with the looting usually taking place on land rather than on deck.   
  
Passing under the shadow of a building Jack realised he was almost at the entrance to the gaol. He found himself hoping that they didn't remember which room they had put him in last time he had been here, though nothing outwardly showed how nervous he was becoming. He knew that underneath his boisterous exterior there was a part he liked to keep hidden and he had kept it carefully away from others for many years now. Even rum, and other less savoury methods of extraction, would not draw it from him.  
  
…  
  
His mother had several lovers who visited when they came to port and her brood of children had roamed the streets regardless of the weather or time of year. Having no great strength to wield a switch or spoon, and knowing the punishment of going hungry would only result in them stealing their supper her discipline routine was to shut the child into a small cupboard in the hall. The punishment would last until she decided they had been in there long enough or, more commonly, until the cupboard was needed for another offender.  
  
Jack had not been the youngest, or the smallest, but he was an only child. His father had visited only once – to conceive him. The others knowing that he had no-one else to stick for him would often blame him for their own indisgressions.   
  
So it was that, in a desperate attempt, at the age of ten he had smuggled on board a ship hoping to escape the hellhole of his life. He had woken the next morning to discover the ship was already out at sea with little intention of returning to that port again. Furthermore it was not just any ship he had landed himself on but a pirate ship, though he did not discover this until a few more days into the voyage.  
  
The journey had resulted in a number of things. He had gained a profession, a name (he was called the sparrow because of his aerobatic manoeuvres especially in fights) and a love for wide open spaces that only the sky and the sea stretching without end could fulfil. For the boy, who became a man, his fear of the dark and isolation changed into a fear of confined spaces- to the point that he would happily give up his hammock in favour of sleeping on deck.  
  
…  
  
The drawing of heavy locks caused him to come out of his revelry, and he watched with a morbid fixation as the door of the gaol was opened. "He escaped to easily last time," came the voice of the warden. "Better to have him 'ere in the cell next to my rooms rather than further in where we can't see what he's up to."   
  
Jack left his solemn façade in place pretending to be indifferent to where they put him despite wanting to crow in delight. The gaol was built as a spiral with the rooms closer to the centre having no windows or other source of natural light and ventilation. The warden's rooms were just inside the gaol, which would mean his room would have a window.  
  
…  
  
They had left soon after with no mention of when, or if, he could have a trial but he knew better than to expect such a discussion. Between the local thieves and the guards such a conversation might take place but never with a pirate.   
  
For a time he just stood by the window enjoying the breeze that brought the salty tang on the ocean to him. Then when he was quite certain he was alone he drew from a hidden pocket a map and tried to work out how to best get back to his original destination having been blown off course by the last storm. 'Port Royale', he mused, that sounded like a good place to restock some of his supplies. 


End file.
